


Banana Split

by wizardslexicon



Category: Star Driver: Kagayaki no Takuto
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:03:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardslexicon/pseuds/wizardslexicon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cute Wako/Mizuno. That's it. That's the whole story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Banana Split

It’s a new school year, the cherry trees are in full bloom, and you are in the back of the classroom sitting next to Mizuno Yo.

It’s not like you don’t know each other. As Maidens, you two have seen a lot of each other. Mizuno had so little time to adjust before it was torn away from her, but you helped her as best you could. And you both had the privilege of liking the same guy.

But still, of all your classmates, she’s the one you understand the least. Sure, you’re friends, and you like her alright. But it’s hard to get the measure of someone who claims to talk to birds and who boldly crosses lines of etiquette with the libido of a wild beast. You’re glad she’s stopped making those eyes at Takuto, though, because now he belongs to you and Sugata and himself, and no one else.

Speaking of eyes, she’s fixed hers on you. They’re a shade of blue lighter than Sugata’s, clear as the summer sky, and utterly absorbed in you. She’s probably thinking about something, and doesn’t realize how awkward it looks.

“Good morning, Mizuno!” you say, chipper, in the hopes of getting her to snap out of it. But nothing changes about her gaze as she replies.

“Good morning, Wako! I’m looking forward to a new year with you.” She smiles, and you notice two things. First, she has a new haircut, and her hair now matches the pixie in her spirit. Second, since when did she have such nice lips? They pulled back from dull white teeth with a smooth fluidity, and they looked even softer than Kanako’s, if that were possible. Little grapefruit slices. You look for too long.

“Of course,” you reply, stammering. Mizuno smooths down her skirt and starts getting out pencils, her notebook, and a pair of glasses. She is in learning mode, and you decide to get to lessons, too. The teacher begins class, Keito takes attendance, and the world’s axis tilts back into normal position.

 

Class is over, and Mizuno. Is. Waiting. For. You. Usually you walk or bus back to Sugata’s house after school to study with the boys. But Mizuno waves you down, and you look desperately to your boyfriends to help. Takuto shrugs, and Sugata actually has the nerve to laugh at you. They get on the bus together, sharing some joke, and leave you to face the vivacious girl alone.

“Hi, Wako! I was wondering if you could help me with my art project?” The look on her face is absolutely irresistible. Her mouth pouts a little, and her eyes turn up to beseech your aid. You don’t really have a choice.

“Sure,” you reply, “but I don’t know how I can help.” Mizuno shakes her head, smiles, and holds up a picnic basket.

“All you have to do is eat and sit still!”

Which is how you ended up at the Western Shrine, eating a ridiculously delicious bento. Mizuno packed in rice in the shapes of their faces, complete with shrimp for Mizuno’s hair and yellow peppers for yours. The fruit is fresh and delicious, the veggies crunch and go down like water, the shellfish titillate. You wonder when she learned how to make a lunch taste like a banquet.

Finally, she pulls out a two pints of ice cream.

“Guess which flavor!” she asks, plainly delighted. You sniff a little. Your sense of smell is uncanny, and it doesn’t fail you now.

“Banana split!” you cry, and Mizuno hands you your pint, clapping her hands. “ _Itadakimasu_ ,” you say, digging into the carton with undisguised ferocity.

“Just so! You’re really good, Wako. Usually only Marino knows the flavor like that.” You nod, eating the ice cream. The decadent, busy flavor matches the warm heat of the dying summer. Mizuno picked the perfect flavor without even trying.

“Thanks for the lunch, Mizuno. It was really delicious.” You hand her the spoon and the empty carton, and try to nurse your brainfreeze.

“I don’t mind making them for you more often!” she offers. You try to turn her down and she insists, so you make a mental note of telling Tiger and Jaguar that your lunches will be taken care of from now on. Finally, you get around to the point.

“So, what’s the deal with your art project?” you ask. You want to get home in time for dinner.

“The theme is “Beauty and Grace”,” Mizuno says as an explanation. “Go sit on the stairs, so I can still see the shrine!”

“Beauty and Grace? What does that have to do with the price of chocolate in America?” Mizuno giggles, and your stomach flutters. Wait, what?

“I’m going to draw you next to the shrine! A beautiful girl, and the grace of an old, quiet place! It’s a chance!” You flinch, roll your eyes to try and hide your blush. It’s the first day back. Mizuno had received a project, and her first thought of beauty had involved you.It was hopelessly flattering.

Already, she had pulled out her notebook and a set of pencils. Her glasses had reappeared, and she was really too cute to be handled. You sit patiently on the stone steps, listening to her pencil scratching the paper, and feeling the wind blow through your skirt. After a while, she begins to sing.

 

_The gate, standing surrounded by the clearing blue, connects to hopes._

_I hold not even the tiniest doubt. The reality reflected in my eyes is beautiful._

_It radiates hundreds of millions of times, becomes more real each time,_

_and in turn, I can finally learn what light is._

 

You don’t think you’ve ever heard those words, although you remembered her song reverberating through Zero Time. It must be a new verse. Either way, it fits the current situation uncannily. The gate, surrounded by guileless sky, and _Mizuno Yo, the cutest girl you know, thinks you are beautiful_. But the beautiful moment, with the sound of waves lapping at the shore, can’t last.

“Mizuno, I have to pee.” She makes a little surprised noise.

“Oh, that’s okay! You’ve been there for three hours, you did really well.”

“I’ll miss dinner!” you nearly shout. Dinner is serious business in the Tsunashi-Agemaki-Shindou house. Mizuno looks a little disappointed, but she nods.

“Same time tomorrow, then? I’m not finished.” You agree a little too fast, and tell yourself that it’s because you like her taste in ice cream, not her compliments and her lips and her song.

 

 _It must be a really gorgeous picture_ , you think. This is the ninth day of the Shrine Sketch meetings, and Takuto and Sugata have started making smartass jokes about you and your girlfriend. You know they are joking, so you try not to look too exalted when you hear that word.

But you don’t like girls, right? It’s not that Mizuno’s hips and breasts excite you, although you admit they do. It’s not really about secondary sex characteristics—it’s about how she always smells like summer flowers, and how she always picks the right flavor of ice cream, and how she always rings the rice ball Wako in carefully cut celery hearts. You don’t like girls, you tell yourself. You like Mizuno. Who happens to be a girl. It’s a flimsy argument at best.

Either way, these meetings have been going longer than you thought, but you can still hear her drawing. She refuses to show you the picture until she’s finished, though, which is the worst kind of suspense possible. You contrive an excuse to stand up and stretch, and she closes the book.

It only takes a moment’s thought. You lunge at her and straddle her hips, grab for the sketch pad, and tear it from her fingers. You shift into a comfortable position _(you are practically riding Mizuno Yo_ ) and, over her protests, open it.

Your face stares back at your from every page. Drawings obviously done in class, with your face intent and your lips puckered in concentration. You playing baseball, laughing as you strike out. You acting, completely in character. You singing under the stars at the last school dance. Finally, you see it: in perfect, painstaking detail, you sit on the stairs, hair shifting. The clouds seem to be moving in the picture. It’s perfect.

And it’s finished.

You give her a look, and she’s blushed as red as the tomatoes she uses to make Takuto’s hair in the bento. Every page after the picture is filled with random lines, the occasional doodle of Wako or Vice President. She has been pretending to draw you for days.

“Why?”

“Wako, I...” Her hips squirm, and you realize just where you’re sitting. You give her a suspicious look and shift your hips. She gasps. You realize you are getting her off and decide not to move for the moment. The choice is delicious. “I just wanted you to stay with me. For a little while.”

“You didn’t really have an art project, did you?” you ask, voice soft. “No one assigns projects on the first day back.” You think back to Beauty and Grace, and surprise both of you by laughing. “You went through all of this to tell me I’m beautiful?” And at long last, you place the notebook next to you, lean over, and catch her lips with yours. She feels like the last ray of light before the sun sets, and she tastes like the nostalgia of lost blue skies. 

You both emerge from the shrine hours later.  Your skirts are rumpled, and your ties are askew. Your grandmother says nothing, and you’re grateful. You and Mizuno walk down the island hand in hand, and you can only remember one time you felt this happy. When you confessed to your boys, and they—

_Your boys._

You make a choked noise, drop her hand, and crumple. Then you call Takuto, and explain to him in a horrified, sob-wracked voice that you have betrayed everything he believes. Takuto says after a solid minute of silence that Sugata is on speakerphone. And then they both laugh.

“We already share you with each other,” Takuto says. “We don’t own your love. Just make sure to bring some back home to us, Wako.” And you were wrong, this is about as happy as a human being can be. Mizuno kisses the remains of your tears away, and you shout “Apprivoise!” to the warm wind.

It is the second week of the first semester, the cherry trees smell sweet, and you can taste banana split ice cream on Mizuno Yo’s tongue.

 


End file.
